Circle

W

e reached home to a surprise awaiting both of us. Max rushed to open the door as Mrs. Waltham stood outside, waiting for me. How did she find me? “A police officer sitting outside your old apartment informed me of where to find you.” She smiled. I guess the question was clear in my eyes. “Did he confirm your identity before telling you the address to this place?” Mrs. Waltham shook her head. At this, Max’s expression hardened.

She opened the door and immediately called Detective Ocon. “Max, it’s fine,” I said to her as I placed a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head vigorously. "No. It is not okay. It could have been anyone. How dare he give away your address randomly. It could have been Hannah. Then, all our efforts to protect you would have been of no use.

All that time and energy had gone to waste. Not to mention, it would have increased the danger to your head by ten times. This is unacceptable." She refused to listen to anyone and dialed Detective Ocon’s number. “Hello, sir, who have you positioned outside Ms. Frietz’s old apartment?” Straight to the point. Just as Max likes it, an indistinct reply could be heard from Detective Ocon's side.

I ushered Mrs. Waltham inside as Max said, "Well, you should replace him with someone who better understands the magnitude of the job. It could have been Hannah herself; we never know. This type of irresponsibility is unacceptable." "Hannah?" Mrs. Waltham looked at me with a question mark in her eyes. “Who is Hannah?” I sat her down before saying, “No one. It is just someone the police are suspecting.

You do not have to worry about her.” There was still a haze in her eyes. “Is she, in some way, related to your father?” I was going to the kitchen to make coffee when I stopped dead in my tracks. How does she know that? Does she know Hannah? I turned around to face Mrs. Waltham. Max had already ended her call with Detective Ocon and had her complete concentration focused on our conversation. “How did you know that?” I asked her.

She looked deep in thought. “I am not sure. I just feel like I have heard that name from your father’s mouth. It stayed in my mind because she was the only woman he talked about, except you.” Should we be having this conversation in front of Max? Can I trust her? Just because she is keeping an eye on me does not mean she is not to be trusted.

This is simply part of her job. And besides, I have given Detective Ocon enough reasons to be suspicious of me, considering how inconsistent my statements have been. “Can you remember what he said about her? What my dad said about Hannah?” Mrs. Waltham rubbed her temples with both of her thumbs, trying to remember. "I think it was at the time when he came to talk to your uncle, Mr. Waltham, may his soul rest in peace, about the birth certificates.

He mentioned Hannah. I do not know how she was related to the certificates. Although, his voice did not sound too happy when talking about her. It seemed strained and almost pitiful." I waited for her to continue, but she stopped right there. She did not say anything else. Was that it? “Is that all? Can you remember anything else? Like if her name was on one of the birth certificates?” She was still rubbing her forehead temple with her thumbs. She shook her head.

I felt the space beside me being filled and looked back to see Max standing there. “Sorry, dear, that is all I remember. I wish I could be of more help, but this old age is rotting my brain. It is taking the best of me.” She looked close to tears. Did I push her too much? Is it the old age thing? Or maybe it is her inability to help me?

Whatever it was, I sat down beside her and hugged her. “Thank you, Mrs. Waltham. Your information is invaluable to me. Thank you so much for your help,” I said as she rubbed my back with one hand and ran her fingers through my hair with the other. Max was still standing in the same spot I had left minutes ago.

“So, what gives me the honor of your visit today?” Mrs. Waltham smiled as she took the last sip of her coffee and put the cup down. “I had not visited you since you were released from the hospital. Since you were discharged, I decided to come and meet you in person with this.” She pulled out a small package from her handbag.

I looked at her in confusion. She just smiled at me and urged me to open the package, now sitting comfortably on my lap. I pulled one end of the ribbon to untie the bow on top of the package. I carefully unwrapped it under the excited gaze of Mrs. Waltham and the suspicious glare of Max. It was obvious that Max did not trust Mrs. Waltham.

The package opened to reveal a small, glistening ring. I looked at Mrs. Waltham in confusion again. "You asked me for this ring when you were a kid. It was given to me by your uncle, and you absolutely adored it. Obviously, I could not give it to you back then, but now that he is gone, I have no more use for it. I think it would look lovely on your fingers." I looked at the ring, which struck a memory I had buried deep in my mind.

##

Mrs. Waltham took off her ring as she prepared to wash the dishes. I looked at the ring with longing. She noticed my gaze. “Do you like it?” I eagerly nodded my head. Mrs. Waltham smiled at my answer as she turned on the faucet on the pre-soaked dishes. "Your uncle tells me never to take it off. He gave it to me on the night of our wedding and made me promise I would never take it off till the day he died. Why do you like it?" I thought about her question. The gears in my small mind turned. Why did I like it?

I never liked jewelry. I observed the ring closely. It had a simple metallic band at the front, but its front curved onto a small stone. The stone was black. The band turning from opposite sides presented the illusion of two people holding hands. The ring felt like companionship; it felt like warmth. How was I supposed to explain this to Mrs. Waltham? I simply said, “It is pretty.” I gave the reply expected of someone so young.

She smiled a knowing smile. She knew I was lying. “If you tell me the real reason, I might give it to you one day.” My mind perked up at the possibility of being able to own that ring. “Well, the way the band goes around the stone, it looks like two people holding hands.” “And?” I could never hide anything from her. “And, wearing it might make me less lonely.”

She did not give me a sad smile or pity in reply. I loved her to infinity at that moment. "We are all a little lonely. I do not yet know why that is, but we are. A ring is not going to solve that. There is nothing wrong with wanting companionship. Once you reach out, you will realize other people are just as lonely and as longing for companionship.

You will find your people and make a home in their hearts. The loneliness never goes away; you just become better equipped to deal with it. It becomes easier." She paused after that. Deep in thought, the faucet had already turned off, and she began to take off her latex gloves. “Anyway, since you were honest, who knows, you might just own this ring one day.”